Before Brandon Belt even squeezed the ball for the final out of a 2-0 Giants win in Game 2 of the World Series, the comedian at the Andrews Bar took the stage and started his act.

No one complained that the ball was still in the air. They've got a feeling about this kind of thing in Detroit.

No offense to the Tigers, and the minute they show signs of life their fans will be right back on the bandwagon.

"They're just waiting to get home," said bartender Sabrina Simon. "That's what they are doing."

But over at Nancy Whiskey's, they had that familiar sinking Detroit feeling.

The Detroit speakeasy isn't one of those yuppie bars. This is Corktown, Detroit's version of the Mission, and there were no poseurs here.

And, of course, as they nipped at their Detroit Axl beer and wondered why Tiger manager Jim Leyland always leaves pitchers in too long, the moment of the night was when Gregor Blanco's bunt rolled slowly down the third base line and then died - fair ball. That loaded the bases, and even when the Tigers turned a double play, the Giants still scored the go-ahead run.

"Oh no," he said. "That's Giants luck. You guys have gotten the luck during the entire playoffs."

And so it goes. They love their Tigers here, but as Lopp says, there's something about the city that still has "that pessimistic edge."

That seems odd, because on an a warm October night, during Game 2 of the World Series, you could stand at the corner of Woodward Avenue and Adams Street and see all that is fine and good about sports in Detroit.

Up the street, there are eight 14-foot alabaster-white Tiger sculptures that snarl at fans who have stopped by Comerica Park to take a photo and send a little luck to their American League champion baseball team. Around the corner is Ford Field, a state-of-the art (built in 2002) home for the Lions of the National Football League. And a short fly ball from the ballpark, with a giant hockey puck spinning slowly over the roof, is Hockeytown Cafe, a memorabilia-packed sports bar and shrine to the mighty Red Wings.

Expected to fail

They take their sports seriously here, says Wayne Woodward, born and raised in Sacramento. He's lived in Detroit 12 years and was sitting at Tom's Oyster Bar when he groaned along with the natives when Buster Posey tagged out Prince Fielder at home plate and cheered every Tiger hit.

"It's a little different here," he said, "because everyone expects them to fail."

And why is that?

"Because everyone considers Detroit to be so down and out to begin with that it is hard not to absorb it into the very core of their bones," Woodward says.

And there it is. Detroit residents, thoroughly exhausted by the narrative of the downtrodden, financially feeble city, have been lifted and encouraged by its plucky baseball team.

"We are not downtrodden," he says. "It's not like we are walking around saying, 'Thank God the Tigers are doing well or we'd really be screwed.' "

Yet there is an unmistakable connection here. The cliche perception of Detroit - troubled, abandoned and dangerous - needs the relief of a feel-good story from a town with a baseball tradition that stretches back to Ty Cobb.

Sports is a great healer and unifier, but Detroit has been short. While Ford Field hosted the Super Bowl in 2006, the Lions have never made it to the big game. The beloved Red Wings have reached 24 Stanley Cup finals, but even here hockey is a bit of a niche sport. The NBA Pistons play in Auburn Hills, miles from the city center.

So for now it is all Tigers, all the time. At the Tiger Dugout Store next to the stadium, clerk Jenny Hoddo says "everything is flying off the shelves. It is impossible to get anything done."

Hoddo tells a familiar story of romance. She was 14 and the Tigers went on their miracle 2006 run, leading the division, then losing on the last day, going to the playoffs as the wild card and fighting their way to the World Series.

"I fell in love. There was magic in the air," she said. "Unfortunately, they lost."

Familiar feeling

And now it's that way again. Fans are all in for the Tigers. There are banners on streets and shops, caps with the famous old English font "D" on the front, and the newscasts are full of Tigers talk. But there's also that undercurrent of concern - you're not going to disappoint us again are you?

There's a sense that this time, Detroit, the Tigers and their fans want to get this right.

The 2006 Series was a slogging 4-1 defeat. Even the wonderful Justin Verlander, the handsome, charismatic pitcher who has become Detroit's favorite son, struggled, pitching poorly in Game 1 and famously throwing the ball away to let the Cardinals tie the score.

And, as it came apart for Verlander in Game 1 against the Giants Wednesday, the sense of deja vu for the Tigers was almost painful to watch. When Pablo Sandoval hit his second consecutive home run off Verlander, the next sound was 200 people at Hockeytown bar smacking their palms into the their foreheads.

The Tigers won it all in 1984. But that delirious celebration - the Tigers hadn't won a World Series since 1968 - turned into a terrible riot that left one dead and the city in flames.